Artivist. Maybe We Can.

“Maybe. But not now.” I remember asking questions, like “Why not?” And never getting a satisfactory answer. At what age were you when you were first told that you couldn’t do something? What lasting impact has that had on you? Is it still a little voice in your head? What if, we replaced the wordContinue reading “Artivist. Maybe We Can.”

Artfully Told

With more life behind me, than I have in front of me, I’ve decided to be proactive in the telling of my story. From the ticket stubs from concerts I attended to telephone numbers I use to call daily, these are the fine details and broad strokes of my life. It’s extremely important to meContinue reading “Artfully Told”

My FaceBook Art

I’m an artist. There, I’ve said it. Over the past four years, I’ve posted a lot of art on social media. It’s as much of a healing process as it is therapeutic for me. Never did I expect the level of success that I’ve gained from having put my work “out there”. Never did IContinue reading “My FaceBook Art”

Art For Social Change. Good.

These Queens! Inside every window, there’s a story to be told. Something going on. Something happening. And the truth is, we don’t know what that narrative is or what kind of drama someone is going through, be kind. Be Kind. https://www.thehotline.org/ October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month. #every1knowssome1 #domesticviolenceawarenessmonth #dvam2021 #art #procrastination #bostonart #instagram #technygalleriesContinue reading “Art For Social Change. Good.”

Art of The Smile

Growing up, people didn’t like to smile in photographs. They just stared into the camera. Today, as I flip through the photo album of my memory, I’m happy that I can remember some spontaneous times, when people weren’t conscientious about the camera and weren’t so deadpan serious. Times when they let their guard down andContinue reading “Art of The Smile”

Art Arrival. On Time

Riding the subway. Going fast and still arriving late. Growing up, we went everywhere together. You wouldn’t know that my family didn’t own a car or that my mother couldn’t drive. Rocking and rattling along and yelling to be heard over the sound of metal wheels flying along steel tracks, defying gravity! *I enjoyed paintingContinue reading “Art Arrival. On Time”